


Know You Are Mine

by Romiress



Category: Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Abuse, Amputation Kink, Branding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Unhealthy Relationship, M/M, POV Abuser, Threats, Torture, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: He won't ever stop, and that's one of the reasons Kal still loves him. Bruce feels like the best and worst parts of the human spirit made manifest."Never," Bruce says, the same way he always does."Then we'll do this the hard way," Kal says.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 211
Collections: Superbat Exchange Winter 2019





	Know You Are Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inihiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inihiu/gifts).



Diana will no longer look at him. It should be a surprise, should be painful to think about, but it's not even that. It's just nothing. Just another betrayal in the long list of betrayals that no longer hurt him the way they once would have. Another person in the regime who will no longer look him in the eyes, who finds reasons to look away if he so much as glances their direction.

She is the last. She held out the longest.

At the very least her dignity lets her say to his face what others only think: That it's inhumane. That she won't support it any longer.

"We aren't human," he reminds her. Her support means nothing to him. All that matters is her compliance.

The meeting proceeds smoothly otherwise. None of the others argue. None of the others openly take her side.

Kal calls the meeting to an end. As always, it ends the same way: Damian stands, clears his throat, and makes his pitch.

"I would like to request my father's execution."

It is not a change. He's asked for it at the end of every meeting for the past year. But the answer doesn't change.

"He's too valuable," Kal says simply. "Request denied."

Damian clearly no longer expects any other answer. The request is a formality, his way of making clear what he believes. The meeting adjourns as normal, and every member of the regime leaves without a word. There's no small talk or discussion, and there won't be until they're far enough away that they can let themselves believe that he isn't listening in.

They prefer to keep their distance, and that's fine with him. He doesn't need them. He never did.

The trip to his quarters only takes seconds, but getting through all the security he's installed on the door takes far longer. He's prepared for an attack when he steps through, but he doesn't get one. It gives him a spike of hope that maybe, just maybe, his captive has given up on the idea of escape.

It's a foolish hope. Bruce isn't there to attack him at the door because he's still sprawled out on the floor from that morning. His breathing is heavy, the bruises on his body already purpling. He's too worn down to fight him right then, and the corners of Kal's mouth twitch in amusement.

Maybe he should spend more mornings with him. Maybe that would finally convince him that what he's doing is futile.

"Bruce," he calls, and Bruce's entire body bucks in sudden alarm, his head snapping up as he twists it about, trying to figure out exactly where he is. Kal doesn't make him wait, striding over to where Bruce lays and reaching down, grabbing him by the forearm and lifting him. It'll leave a violently colored bruise the next day, but that's never been a deterrent for Kal. He likes seeing the marks he leaves. He likes knowing that he's the one who has left them there.

Bruce struggles in his grip, but he doesn't have any options. The best he manages is letting out a snarl, grabbing at Kal's fingers and trying to pry them off. Another pointless gesture, because even if he somehow had the strength to surpass Kal's, he'd simply fall to the floor and be right back where he started.

Kal supposes it's not the end goal that matters, just the resistance. Bruce will never let him forget that he's still fighting, even when it's pointless.

But Kal tries to be nice about it. He doesn't drop Bruce on the floor, instead choosing to gently place him up on the bed.

He'll make an effort, even if Bruce won't. Even if Bruce refuses to meet him halfway, he'll take the high ground.

"The meeting went well," Kal says. "So—"

"Spare me the details," Bruce snaps. He's already moving, dragging himself along the bed and away from Kal, and without even thinking about it Kal reaches down, digging his fingers into Bruce's hip as he pulls him back towards him.

Even after more than a year out of the field, Bruce is still something to look at. He's kept himself fit even with all his new limitations. He's still thick and muscular, and the way the flesh gives under Kal's fingers lights a fire in his belly.

"It doesn't have to hurt," Kal says. It's a peace offering, an attempt to make nice... but it's also an honest offer.

He'd like it to be happy. He'd like to be gentle. It could be good for both of them, only Bruce won't ever let that happen. He's made it clear over and over again, said it a thousand times. He'll fight Kal _every_ time.

He won't ever stop, and that's one of the reasons Kal still loves him. Bruce feels like the best and worst parts of the human spirit made manifest.

"Never," Bruce says, the same way he always does.

"Then we'll do this the hard way," Kal says.

He hates doing it the hard way. He knows that Bruce thinks he enjoys it, but he doesn't. He never enjoys hurting Bruce. He simply realizes that it's a necessary evil. Bruce has to learn. Maybe not right then, but eventually he'll understand his situation. Eventually he'll relent.

"The hard way?" Bruce snaps. "What are you going to take this time, then?"

Kal flinches, reaching down to grab Bruce's jaw, hauling him up to face him.

"That was necessary," he snaps. "If you didn't keep trying to escape—"

"You know, I'm shocked I still have my hands," Bruce says. "Maybe you should take those next."

Kal throws him against the bed with a snarl.

"I didn't want that," he says. "You know I didn't want that, Bruce. I gave you options. I gave you choices. Even if you wouldn't work with me, you could have stayed here in peace."

"As your slave!" Bruce roars. "That's not a life!"

"It's a life you should be thankful for!" Kal yells. Bruce has no clothing for him to grab, so instead he grabs Bruce's shoulder, shoving him against the wall.

If Bruce had legs, Kal is sure he'd be using them to kick. As it stands, the amputated stumps do nothing for him, and Bruce is forced to lash out with his hands, even if the blows do nothing.

"I keep giving you chances," Kal says, his voice dropping low and dangerous as he presses Bruce against the wall. "I keep giving you ways to make things easier on yourself. Every single time I do, you spit in my face. Every single time, you make things worse on yourself."

He tries. He really does. He tries to make things easier. He gives Bruce chances. He lets him work out, gives him the best food. He feeds him by hand when Bruce is recovering from his injuries.

But Bruce is never thankful. He doesn't understand that the alternatives are so much worse.

"Bruce, please," Kal begs. He knows he's begging. He no longer has any dignity where Bruce is concerned. All he wants is his cooperation. All he wants is his understanding. "Let me help you."

Bruce spits in his face.

Kal sees red.

His heat vision lances across Bruce's torso. It's a shallow burn, but still enough to rip a scream from Bruce's throat. Bruce arches against him, his entire body tense, his expression pained. 

"I tried to help you," Kal snaps. "This is what happens when you fight."

The burn runs from the center of Bruce's pectoral down to the center of his chest, and the placement... the placement works. Immediately, Kal knows how he can fix things, and he presses one hand to either side of Bruce's chest, pinning him down.

"Hold still," he says. He doesn't think Bruce is listening, the burn intense enough that even his impressively high pain tolerance can't take it.

It's easy to use his vision to extend the burn. He mirrors it to the other side, and then extends it up. Really, he's wondering how he didn't think of it before. It's such an obvious solution, such a clear way of helping Bruce understand. Bruce flails and screams at the pain, but Kal simply ignores it. He can't do anything against Kal's strength. He can't fight, not really.

It takes less than two minutes for him to finish branding Bruce with the symbol of the house of El. The brand is raised and painful, and Kal knows it will need attending to, but staring down at it he can't help himself.

It's proof. Proof that Bruce is his, no matter what happens. He'll always have the reminder of who he belongs to, and the pained sob Bruce makes when Kal drags his fingers across it only makes it better.

He should have known. He should have known this would happen eventually.

"You look amazing," Kal says, dragging his fingers down Bruce's chest, narrowly missing the burn. "You look so good like this."

He's gentle when he touches him, pulling Bruce against him. He's even more gentle when he trails kisses down the side of Bruce's neck. His instinct is to bite, to leave marks after the earlier fight, but Bruce is all but limp in his arms. He's compliant for once, and Kal wants to reward him for it.

There's no need to remove his clothes. There's barely any need for preparation.

"You're being so good," Kal says. "If you didn't always insist on fighting me, it could be like this every time. It could feel good."

Bruce whimpers as Kal fetches the lube, but goes silent when Kal slicks up his fingers. He's sure Bruce is biting his lip as Kal works two fingers into him in one go, his fingers catching on the edge in an attempt to tease a reaction out of him. Kal doesn't want to get carried away. He doesn't want to hurt him. Bruce is... he's stubborn. He just needs a reminder that it can feel good.

Kale presses in a third finger and uses his free hand to pull his belt off, shifting his pants so that his cock pops free. He's not sure at which point he got hard, and decides it doesn't matter.

"You're going to feel so good," he murmurs in Bruce's ear, and Bruce flinches away. Kal barely suppresses the fit of anger at the motion, reminding himself that it was almost certainly accidental. He's still in pain from the brand. There's nothing more to it.

He goes slow, even if he doesn't want to. He goes slow for Bruce's sake, trailing kisses across his shoulders as he presses the blunt head of his cock against Bruce's hole, nudging there for a moment.

"If you'd just stop fighting," Kal says as gently as he can manage, "it would always be this nice."

He pushes inside in one fluid motion, pressing in until his hips slap the flesh of Bruce's ass. Bruce makes a small choked noise, but otherwise doesn't respond, and Kal takes that as all the sign he needs that he doesn't have to wait. He rocks out and then back in without stopping, listening to the small stifled noises Bruce makes. Even after hundreds of times, Bruce's body is still amazing. He still squeezes Kal so well.

As he rocks against Bruce he lets himself imagine what it would be like if it was always like this. He lets himself imagine what it could have been like if Bruce had accepted the truth from the start.

Things would be so, so different.

Kal drags his hand gently across the brand, feeling Bruce's muscles flex under him. He doesn't say a word of protest, even though he must be in pain, and Kal reaches up, twisting Bruce's face around so he can kiss him properly.

Bruce doesn't kiss back. It's frustrating—it's like he's kissing a wall—but he can't be too angry at him for it. He's probably hurting.

"It's alright," he says. "I'll make sure you feel good."

He knows Bruce's body inside and out, and it's easy to shift the angle of his hips, rocking into him with short thrusts until he suddenly feels Bruce clench around him. He's found his prostate, and once he knows where it is, he can easily start to thrust against it, his hand coming down to jerk Bruce off.

Bruce is nearly silent as Kal makes love to him, but his body reacts anyway. His cock is hard and heavy between what's left of his thighs, leaking precum even before Kal takes it into his hand.

He's so close already, and he can tell Bruce is too. He kisses Bruce's neck desperately, gasping out his name as he hammers his cock against Bruce's prostate, tearing the first and only moan of the evening from Bruce's throat as he does.

When Bruce finishes, his entire body clenching down on Kal, he does so in absolute silence. Kal doesn't return the sentiment, moaning desperately as he chases his orgasm before finally burying himself in Bruce's ass as he cums.

He wraps an arm around Bruce's torso, pulling him closer as he nuzzles against him. Bruce is stiff in his arms, and Kal kisses his neck a bit more, letting himself relax against his lover.

"You did so well," he says, showering Bruce with praise. "We'll get your chest all cleaned up in the morning."

It probably hurts, but Bruce needs the reminder of where he belongs.


End file.
